


Ways to Go

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 13:52:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18012155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Back home in Winterfell, Jon has a night-time chat with Daenerys about the war to come.





	Ways to Go

**Author's Note:**

> so i won't lie this is my first real attempt at a jonerys fic. mostly have been a huge jonsa shipper for the last few years but still, I wanted to try my hands at a different perspective even if short.
> 
> please let me know how I did. thank you.

“You should come to bed.” Daenerys observed, pulling herself into a sitting position. She watched Jon with a mix of concern and curiosity.

Standing by the window, Jon glanced out over Winterfell. The changes since he'd left were myriad; fortifications had been established, catapults and trenches built and dug. The ancestral seat of House Stark looked more like a battlefield then anything.

Turning his eyes towards her, Jon shook his head. “Can't sleep,” he mumbled, “there's too much...too much to plan. To think about.” His mind had been distracted since they returned a fortnight ago – and with good reason.

It was all Jon could do to hold the North together; even with the arrival of the Queen's Unsullied and some of the Dothraki – along with Drogon and Rhaegal – the army of the dead continued to advance without pause or fear.

* * *

A warm hand pressed against his back as Daenerys joined him at the window. “How can we fight the dead if we don't rest? We're not like them.” she gazed out towards the fields far off in the distance, the winds and snow obscuring the horizon with a thick fog.

Turning to her, Jon placed a gentle kiss upon her lips, resting his forehead against hers. “I know.” he sighed, the resignation evident in his voice, “but no one in living memory has fought against the Night King before and triumphed. Even Hardhome wasn't a victory, just a...delay.” The memories of that cursed place still ran through his mind, haunting him in both dreams and waking.

“I've lost against him, too.” she replied, her mind falling on Viserion, now a rotting monstrosity; a mockery of the noble beast he was, “but our losses make us stronger. Look at us, both; a bastard king and a Targaryen, in the North; leading a combined army of southerners and northerners against a force lead by long-dead myth.”

* * *

The concept was absurd, but in these times the absurd triumphed. “If you would have told me this when I left Winterfell for the first time...” Jon allowed himself a small chuckle.

Daenerys cupped his cheek as she kissed him softly in turn. “Or me when I was in Pentos with Viserys,” she grinned.

“We've come a long way.” Jon whispered, placing a hand gently on her hip.

Not breaking her smile, she offered a slight shrug. “We've still got ways to go yet, Snow. Our story is not over – not for you, or me, or..or us.” she gently chided, causing him to pull her against him for another kiss. His breath was hot yet his body cool; he was an enigma, Daenerys knew – but that was what made him so compelling.

* * *

 

 

 


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